PJ Trader

I saw a new commercial on TV last night while The Bob was watching the baseball game.  It opens with a man walking down the street on a gray day, with hundreds of people rushing by deep in their own misery.

Then the man’s cell phone rings and he answers it, smiling and laughing and enjoying his conversation with the unseen other party.  Around him, people react to his cheeriness with their own smiles and the day grows brighter and happier as neighbor helps neighbor and goodwill overflows the city streets.  By the end of the commercial, the city is one big happy family of smiling love for each other.

Meanwhile, the guy’s been on the phone the whole time as he walked down the street.  Magically, the oncoming waves of people cheerfully part for someone who completely ignores them because he’s talking on his phone, absorbed in his happy, happy conversation.  When he hangs up, he’s still grinning foolishly and looks around him at the wonderful world he’s obliviously created.

As I see it, the commercial wants us to believe being in contact with people who make us happy will make not only our lives better, but those around us as well. 

As much as I hate the surface message of the commercial – that we all need a cell phone and need to talk to our happy people all the time – there’s a certain truth to the subliminal message.  If we’re having a bad day and take it out on those around us, everyone is miserable.  If we take the time to smile and say “thank you” (with sincerity) to the girl who hands us our overpriced coffee, we’ve made both our days a fraction brighter.  I like that idea.  More importantly, I like the idea of taking the time to see the people around us and acknowledge their existence.  (And that usually means getting off the cell phone to do it.) 

If the commercial were mine to make, I’d probably film it a little differently.  We’d have our guy walking down the street, smiling and cheerful while talking on his cell phone.  Then he’d hang up as he picks out his newspaper from the street side vendor and they’ll exchange good-natured jibes about the local sports team.  When the phone rings as he’s in the line at the bank, he’ll silence the ringer and apologize for the loud tune to the people waiting in line. (They’ll all be grinning happily, of course, since his five year old niece picked out the ringtone.)  He’ll pay for his groceries without having the cell phone in his ear, instead asking the clerk how her day has been going.  Maybe at the end of the commercial, when he’s at home, he’ll take a long neck out of the fridge, wander out onto the deck and call his mother back as he settles into a lounge chair to watch the sun go down.

Same message, different approaches.